Repeat and Replay
by giftedevidence
Summary: Some kinds of time repeat and replay. Eddie returns to Rose after four years of being in Vietnam. These are Eddie and Rose's thoughts leading up to that moment. Rated M for descriptions of violence, suicidal thoughts, and thoughts of self harm. Spoilers for the end of Dogfight (both the movie and the musical, but this is more based off of the musical).
1. Chapter One

**Dogfight makes me want to scream. I love it. I'm pretty late to the party, but I just really wanted to write about this moment. I'm weak for this show. I am such a weak, weak man. I need this fresh hot angst in my life. Spoilers for the end of the movie/musical, though this is more based off of the musical.**

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Closing time had washed over Rose and the diner all too slowly, yet all too quickly. Time began to fly on days like this, days where she could work without thinking too heavily about the past that haunted her, and about the worries that constantly danced in the back of her mind. Everything that had happened in the last few years was a tangle of events that were either things that moved too fast, or things that were too sluggish. Her hair grew out, she lost some weight, gained it back, her mother had retired and moved down to Florida, leaving her to manage the diner, and then there was Eddie.  
Eddie, who had the laughter that was so full that every other sound was hollow. The man who had loved her for a night, kissed her tenderly, touched her softly, and tucked her written address into his fatigues before he left for the base. He had never written to her once. Her heartbreak had been replaced with some form of anger between irritation and fury, then hurt beyond what she could describe, but now the feelings had faded to a dull sting. He was always on her mind, however, even if she tried to not think about him. Eddie's charming smile with his dimples and his calloused hands always haunted the back of her mind. Rose Fenny was just a naive girl who had her heart all twisted up for a boy who could very easily be dead.

She had listened to the radio every night, but always had to turn it off when they started talking about the soldiers who died. A nausea washed over her, tears occasionally stinging the her eyes, dripping down her cheeks. Any of them could be Eddie. The war was pointless and caused too much pain, but Rose couldn't bring herself to hate any of those who went off to fight over in Vietnam. They were simply doing what they thought was right. They never talk about how you could very easily die a painful death from guerilla ambushes, or from blasts, or from accidents as you march through the jungle. Those who came back due to injuries or because they had completed their time were walking corpses, hollow shells. If Eddie was alive, he wouldn't have come back to her. If he was alive, he was like those men. Flooded with survivor's guilt and suffering from PTSD, their souls slowly rotting away as they either killed themselves or turned to substances that would slowly kill them. She hated the war, she hated the violence, and she hated the aftermath.

Part of her wondered what happened to the men who ran the dogfight, who laughed and made jokes about the women they had brought, the poor girls who had thought they were being taken out on a date to have a good time. She wondered what had happened to toothless and abrasive Marcy, who had pity and hesitation in her eyes as she told Rose the rules of the dogfight. She wondered what happened to the young girl who had spent the night with Eddie Birdlace. She was still there, she knew, but she wondered what parts of her had been lost in the process of that night and of the four years between when she last saw him and present day.

Closing time came quickly, and the light of the setting sun shone across tables as the sound of the radio and sweeping filled the diner. It was a peaceful end to a hectic day, and she gazed up for just a moment, smiling faintly as the sun dyed the once blue sky pink, purple and red. She was so wrapped up in this serenity the sound of the door opening, as well as the bells that were attached to it, made her jolt.

Turning, she moved strands of brown hair behind her ear, wavy instead of curly as it had been when it was shorter. Words begin to form on her closed lips, seconds away from leaving them, but then they locked eyes.


	2. Chapter Two

**Just going to say it now: there's some graphic descriptions of violence in this chapter, as well as suicidal thoughts and mentions of thoughts of self injury.**

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Eddie Birdlace had been utterly decimated by the Vietnam Conflict. All of his friends died violently, limbs blown off, bodies wildly convulsing from round after round, fired from machine of the two Bees that died, Boland went first, one shot to the head was all that it took to bring him down. The alpha of the Bees was not so mighty as he bled to death on the hard unforgiving ground. Bernstein, who had always been reliant on the feeling of safety he had brought with his overconfidence, was shattered. Eddie was too, deep down, but he pushed on, dragging a hesitant and terrified Bernstein in tow. They needed to continue. They would win. Casualties and deaths were things that always came with war; on the nights that he slept, though, he couldn't get the image of Boland, who died terrified, out of his goddamn mind. Bernstein was next. His death was more violent. His body convulsed and seized as the repeated fire of machine guns hit his body. Glasses flying off of his face, he was dead the second he hit the ground. After seeing Fector and Stevens, Eddie had forced himself to go numb.

It was the only choice if he wanted to survive. He and Gibbs made it for a while, along with other marines, but they all met their fates in violent and bloody ways. Eddie was the only one, out of all of the men that attended the dogfight, that came out alive.

The bus ride to San Francisco was filled with him reliving the memories of the night four years ago in a dream like haze, staring at the tattoo on his forearm vacantly. The man beside him attempted to strike up conversation, but it never lasted long. He was too caught up in memories, in flashbacks that haunted his sleep, and in fear.

He felt guilt for surviving, guilt for not doing more, and guilt for not writing to Rose like he said he would have. She was all she had left, the only bit of happiness he remembered from four years ago still tangible and surviving. The possibility that she had left San Francisco, that she had moved on, or that she had grown to hate him for stupidly ripping up her address in a fit of overwhelming machismo, letting the paper flutter out of the bus window, were all things that caused the already constant pit of fear and agony in his stomach to deepen into an endless abyss. Whether these possibilities ended up becoming reality, Eddie needed to see her. Over the last four years, he had longed for her voice, for her touch, for her embrace, and for her feeling of security that she brought with her.

He honestly didn't know what he would do if she wasn't in the city anymore, or if she turned him away. The thoughts of tearing himself to ribbons or throwing himself off of the Golden Gate had been slowly attempting to consume him the entire bus ride, as well as the vague flickers of dismembered limbs and the blood of the men he killed and the blood of the men he watched die. He did not know what could possibly numb his pain, or if there really was any way for him to heal. A shrapnel wound is what sent him home, and he now walked with a slight limp. The pain still was something that tingled in his bones, as well as the anguished screams of his comrades. In four years, Eddie had lost track of how many men he killed, how many lives he'd seen drain from others' eyes. He did not know how many times he had pondered shooting himself, or how many times he thought of figuring out a way to harm himself in hopes of being sent home. The one injury that ended up doing it, ironically, was not one he caused.

Eddie Birdlace was a completely different man now than he was in 1963, a cavernous gap now in his heart where joy used to be. The bus had left ages ago, as did the man who sat beside him, who had worried clearly painted on his face. It was difficult to get directions to the diner, as many people loathed "baby killers" like him, but eventually some kind, elderly woman gave him directions.

He now stood outside of the diner, staring inside the diner through the glass door. He could see Rose in there, sweeping, though she looked almost unrecognizable. She was more beautiful than the last time he had seen her, if such a thing was possible. Her hair had grown out to her shoulder blades, and she appeared fuller than she had four years ago, both physically and in the way she stood. With slightly trembling hands, he opened the diner door, bells softly jingling.

He stood in the entrance, duffel bag heavy on his shoulder, as she turned. She, no doubt, was about to tell him that it was closing time, but as soon as they locked eyes, there was silence. He could see the emotions dancing on her face, relief, anger, hurt, and confusion.

"Eddie…" she murmured, approaching slowly. There was worry and fear dancing across her face. He must have looked like hell to her, and he still wasn't fully able to recognize his own face when he looked in the mirror.

His voice was morose, unfamiliar to even him, "Hi, Rose." His duffel bag was gently placed on the ground beside him.

Her eyes widened slightly, as if she thought he was a mirage that ended up being real. "I never heard from you," she started, a slight hint of hurt lingering in her tone that made him wince, "I didn't know if you were **alive** or…"

A soft smile twitched across his face, an effort that ended up failing. It quickly dropped, and the smile that was there for a second seemed sad and limp, nothing like what it used to be. "Shot at and missed." His words lingered in the empty space between them. His eyes that had been locked with the linoleum floors, now slid up to look at her. "I'm sorry," he whispered, voice almost dissolving into the quiet.

He sees a slight flicker of reassurance cross her face. "It's okay. I've stopped waiting. I'm okay."

She is closer now, but not yet within arms length. She is understandably hesitant. He knew he wounded her deeply in dissolving from her life for four years and then suddenly materializing in the same place where they first met. The guilt for harming her deepened, and he was hoping that she understood that his apology stood for all he had ever done wrong to her, not just for losing contact.

He stared down at his rolled down sleeve, the tattoo of the three bees now visible to both him and her. Tears began to fill up his eyes, and he was now aware of how full his emotional well was. He had been suppressing it all back for literal years, and it was now about to overflow and flood. "I don't know why them… why not me?" His voice was filled with tremors. If it had not been obvious that he was biting back tears before, this would have given it away.

The soft gasp that escapes her was something that Eddie was sure he was not supposed to hear. "Oh, Eddie. I'm so sorry…" Rose breathed, voice swollen with her overwhelming compassion that he remembered her for.

He did not know how long it was between her apology and the hug. He stared down at the tattoo for what seemed like years, feeling the blood of the dead soak his hands. The sounds of gunfire and war filled his mind, mixing with reality and he did not know he was shaking so badly that it was visible until he instinctively embraced Rose, who was solid and still. Her touch managed to snap him out of the daze, only for him to begin to violently sob against her, every untouched emotion seeming to leak out of his eyes and rush down his cheeks.

She is holding him close against her, his head resting on her shoulder. She rubs his back, hushes him, but seems more than able to hold him for the unknown amount of time that he is sobbing against her. Through his tears, he hears her mumble, "Welcome home."

Somehow, he knew that all will become right again.

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 **Ok, that's the end! I was actually gonna do the thing where this chapter would be Eddie's perspective up to where the last chapter ended, but I changed my mind. Mainly because a lot of people have written Rose's perspective on the events at the end of the show/movie, and I really wanted to write Eddie's perspective on the whole thing. _I also have a terrible weakness for writing damaged boys lmao._ I really hoped you enjoyed it!**


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